


A private kind of happiness

by SparklesMagicLightLove, yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Kink!verse [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, And the bad things that can happen when you don't have experience with a whip, BDSM, Begging, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Digital Art, Discussions of whipping, Episode: s04e02 Pregnancy Test, Fanart, Impact Play, M/M, POV David Rose, Patrick Brewer: Service Top, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Riding Crops, Rimming, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Spreader Bars, seriously research is SO IMPORTANT for impact play I cannot stress this enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklesMagicLightLove/pseuds/SparklesMagicLightLove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: “We need to find a solution to this,” he grumbles as he leaves Patrick to tidy himself up while he deals with the interruption.Stevie is the interruption. But miraculously, suspiciously, annoyingly — she is also the solution.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Kink!verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768552
Comments: 54
Kudos: 232





	A private kind of happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another kink!verse instalment! Reading the earlier stories is not required (though, as the very biased author I obviously recommend it); from here on out each fic is essentially standalone, one fic per episode. The reason I'm posting these as individual stories and not chapters is so that folks can tap out of any kinks/fetishes/etc that aren't for them as we go (these boys are gonna be exploring). We're basically canon-compliant from here on out, just with a different first meeting and their relationship being a month longer than canon.
> 
> Please assume that if you don't see something being negotiated on-screen, they've discussed it off-screen. Also, just a reminder to please not take your kink advice from fanfic. Particularly for impact play. Do your research first, and not from AO3.
> 
> Art is by the phenomenally talented [SparklesMagicLightLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklesMagicLightLove/pseuds/SparklesMagicLightLove), please show all the love and appreciation, I am blown away 💖💖💖  
> (It is, however, NSFW, so don't scroll past the story if you're reading with kids in the room 😂)
> 
> Thanks as always to the Rosebuddies for their amazing cheerleading and support and general harassment and many, many (many) discussions of thighs. I love all you thirsty mofos.
> 
> Title is from Bloc Party.

Sex with Patrick is fantastic. It’s incomparable. It’s transcendent. 

It is also, by virtue of their complete lack of anything resembling privacy, quiet, quick, and vanilla.

David has no complaints about the sex. Absolutely zero. What Patrick lacks in experience he more than makes up for in enthusiasm, attentiveness, and determination to make David fall apart under his hands. So the sex is fantastic, but it can only happen when Ray’s out — which means nothing loud enough to drown out the sounds of him coming home, or restrictive enough that they can’t make themselves decent quickly — or in the stockroom of the store, which doesn’t have a flat surface (David is seriously considering investing in a sofa, for… employee break purposes) — or in the car, which has obvious drawbacks.

They’re both aching for more. But they make do.

“Fuck,” David grunts as Patrick slams his wrists into the wall, pinning him there. It’s just after lunchtime on a Friday and they’ve been winding each other up all morning, David with innuendo and wandering hands and Patrick by using that damn _tone_ that drives David to distraction. Eventually, David had grabbed Patrick by the hips while moving past him one too many times and Patrick had _finally_ shoved him through the curtain, into the back room and their current position. 

“I thought I told you to keep your _fucking_ hands to yourself,” Patrick growls in his ear, and David shudders; Patrick does not say fuck, unless it’s a sex thing, and at this point David basically has a Pavlovian response to hearing it come out of his mouth. And Patrick knows it, the troll. He pushes back against the hold but Patrick has him pinned firm, so instead he lurches his upper body forward and sinks his teeth into Patrick’s neck. 

“David—” Patrick hisses. 

“It’s not my hands,” David mumbles, unwilling to tear his lips away from the soft skin. In response, Patrick stretches his neck just slightly and David takes the invitation, turning the playful bite into something much more purposeful. Patrick slides his hands up from David’s wrists, still pinning him but now with their fingers laced tightly, as he slots one muscular thigh between David’s legs before rolling their hips together. David thrusts forward to meet him and they’re just getting a good rhythm going when the bell above the shop door chimes. 

Patrick groans as he pulls away. He looks debauched; his collar is askew where David pushed it aside with his jaw for better access, and those stupid jeans make it incredibly obvious just how much he was enjoying their afternoon activities. David’s sure he’s not much better but his clothing is less likely to get them arrested, so he’s the one to head out the front. 

“We need to find a solution to this,” he grumbles as he leaves Patrick to tidy himself up while he deals with the interruption. 

Stevie is the interruption. But miraculously, suspiciously, annoyingly — she is also the solution. 

* * *

“Lock it up, David,” Patrick laughs against his lips, and David hums. 

“Now there’s an idea,” he murmurs, and Patrick hitches in a breath.

“Maybe. Let’s see what’s in the bag, shall we?”

Patrick had stared at David’s duffel bag of sex toys and implements all the way from the motel and up the stairs to Stevie’s; he’d only pulled his gaze away from it when Jake arrived, which was not the kind of distraction anyone needed, but it seems to have captured his focus again now. He stands up, grabbing the bag and swinging it onto the bed before unzipping it. 

The first thing Patrick pulls out is the last thing that went in the bag — the horsehair flogger from the night they met. Patrick grins as he picks it up, giving it an affectionate little pat that makes David laugh before he sets it aside, his attention returning to the bag.

“Ah, I recognise this,” Patrick says, pulling out the whip. “You wouldn’t let me use this at the club.”

“Mm, and I’m not letting you use it tonight, either,” David replies. 

Patrick turns to him, puzzled. “Why not?”

David takes the whip out of his hand carefully. “Okay, single-tail whips? Need practice. They’re nothing like floggers or anything else you’ve used. Especially ones like this, with a long tail. It’s much harder to control where they land, and if you don’t know how to control it I could get hit in the kidney and piss blood for three days.”

Patrick winces. “Please tell me you’re speaking hypothetically.”

“I am not, and I have no desire to repeat the experience. So, no whips until you’ve learned how to make them land where you want, and not wrap around, and—”

He glances from Patrick’s face, lips pressed together in concentration, to his fingers twitching where they’re resting on his knees. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, a grin stretching across his face. “Did you need a minute to go put this on a spreadsheet or something?” He’s teasing, making fun of Patrick’s studious face, and he expects a jab back — not for Patrick to flush violently.

“I, uh— how did you—” he stutters.

“Oh my God,” David doesn’t mean to let the laughter bubble up, he really doesn’t, but the look on Patrick's face is too much. “Patrick, I was kidding. You have a _spreadsheet?”_

Patrick clears his throat. “Can I take that home, then? To practice?” He’s clearly trying to change the subject, and the only reason David allows it is because the mental image of Patrick _practicing_ with the whip, trying to get it right in his focused, competent way, is… very nice.

“Sure,” he manages, only a little strangled as he hands it back over. Patrick takes the whip to his backpack, placing it carefully inside before returning to the bed. He rifles through the bag before pulling out a solid black bar with a look of confusion on his face.

“Okay, I’m not quite— is this a spreader bar?” he asks hesitantly. 

David nods quickly. “Mm-hmm. These—” he points to the cuffs on each end of the 16-inch bar— “are for ankles, and these—” he gestures to the two in the middle— “go around the wrists.”

Patrick studies it for a moment. “Oh, okay,” he says finally. “So you’d be… on your front, ass up, arms underneath you?”

“Sure,” David says with a smirk. “That’s one way.”

Patrick turns back to the bar, frowning; David can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks it through, visualises the other position it could hold David in. And then he just… freezes, mouth hanging open, staring at the spreader a little blankly. 

After a few seconds with no reaction making David increasingly nervous, he clears his throat. “We don’t have to use it,” he says cautiously. This seems to shake Patrick out of his stupor — he whips his head around to look at David incredulously before placing the bar carefully at the end of the bed.

Ah. The problem wasn’t _not_ liking the visual, then. 

Patrick reaches back into the bag, and if David’s not mistaken his pace is a lot quicker than it was before as he pushes a few things aside. After a few seconds of shuffling Patrick pulls out a leather crop, gesturing at David with it as if to ask a question.

Like there’s any question.

 _“Fuck_ yes,” David confirms quickly, and the crop joins the spreader bar on the bed. David reaches into his overnight bag and adds lube and a box of condoms to the little pile before pulling the bag with the rest of the sex toys onto the floor, then he hauls Patrick in by his belt loops and kisses him frantically.

Patrick presses a gentle hand to his chest, pushing him back. “We have all night, David,” he says quietly, and fuck if those words aren’t a turn on in and of themselves. _All night._ No scrambling to cover themselves before Ray bursts into Patrick’s bedroom without knocking, no half-dressed orgasms pressed up against the wall of the stock room after work, no frantic handjobs in the car while keeping one eye out for anyone approaching — they can take their time with each other.

Stevie’s going to get so much wine for this. (And then he’s going to mock her about Jake forever, because… well.)

Patrick reaches up to kiss him again and this time it’s slower, deeper, full of promise; David lets himself relax into it. He feels Patrick’s hands slip under his sweater before pulling it up, only breaking the kiss when absolutely necessary to get it all the way off. He folds it carefully before placing it on the dresser, and seeing him take such care with it does almost as much for David as the kissing does. He does not return the favour with Patrick’s sweater, yanking it and his undershirt over his head in one quick tug and tossing it into the corner of the room. He peels off his own t-shirt and lobs it in the same general direction before leaning in for another kiss. Patrick slides his hands up David’s back as he responds, his kiss definitely a little dirtier than it was just a few moments ago.

“Take the rest off, sit on the end of the bed,” Patrick tells him, the steady tone belied by his flushed grin. David smirks but complies, quickly shucking off the rest of his clothes before pushing the pile of sex toys off to one corner, sitting in the centre. Patrick straddles him, still standing and therefore looming over him, and David fumbles to undo his belt. Before he can go any further his gaze falls on Patrick’s stomach and he has a sudden flashback to their night in the club, about wanting to trace the sparse trail of hair stretching down from Patrick’s navel with his tongue. And he can now, so he does, pressing the tip of his tongue just under Patrick’s bellybutton before flattening it as he drags it down. 

Patrick groans loudly. “You’re so fucking hot, David,” he murmurs but David barely hears him, his tongue hitting fabric. He makes quick work of Patrick’s fly and yanks the jeans and boxer briefs down together, about halfway down his thighs before they get stuck by Patrick’s stance. He takes a few shuffling steps back until David is no longer between his legs and then tugs them the rest of the way off until he’s standing naked and so, so goddamn sexy in front of him. David groans at the sight of his mostly hard cock and leans forward to take it into his mouth, but Patrick backs up, out of his reach.

“I don’t think so, David,” he says firmly. “I’ve got plans for you, and all of them involve me getting this bar on you.” He pauses. “Okay?” he adds in a different tone, and David takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Yes,” he exhales, and for good measure, adds, “green.”

Patrick swallows hard. “I’ve missed hearing you say that,” he admits. He reaches for the spreader bar before sinking to his knees, pressing a kiss into one of David’s calves as he bends down. The sight of Patrick on his knees between his legs is delectable and he has to very determinedly tell his dick that it’s not getting sucked right now — not that it does much to calm him down. 

Patrick wraps the outer cuffs around each of David’s ankles, fingers steady but gentle as he checks the tightness. Once it’s on David lies back on the bed and, gritting his teeth — this is always the least dignified part — raises his feet up to point at the ceiling, knees bent. He realises belatedly that Patrick is still on the floor and now has one hell of a view.

“Jesus, fuck,” Patrick whispers. He presses a kiss into David’s exposed inner thigh and then bites down, startling a yelp out of him as Patrick licks and sucks over the bite mark. David can tell it’s going to turn into an impressive hickey and when Patrick finally pulls away he can feel his pulse in the spot.

“You look so fucking good, David, you have no idea,” Patrick groans, and then he’s repeating the move on the other thigh, biting down so hard David arches off the bed in shock. His cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, Patrick’s cheek just close enough to his balls that he can _almost_ feel it, a tantalising tease as another hickey blooms on his skin. He repeats this again and again until there are half a dozen angry red marks littering this inside of his thighs and then he _blows_ on them, raising goosebumps and making them throb deliciously. Once Patrick’s done he stands up before moving around to David’s side; in the time he was between David’s legs he’s gone from mostly stiff to completely hard and throbbing, and David reaches out to touch almost unconsciously.

Patrick chuckles low in his throat. “Thanks, David,” he says cheerily, gripping his wrist before his hand can reach its target. He brings it up to the bar, and David has to bend his knees a little further so his wrist can meet the cuff. Patrick secures it before holding his hand out, and David brings his other arm up obediently. To his surprise Patrick pulls it over his body to press a quick kiss to the palm before leaning over to wrap the other cuff around it; the movement presses the very tip of Patrick’s cock to David’s torso and they both suck in a harsh breath at the sensation.

Patrick moves back around to the foot of the bed and just looks at David for a moment, eyes roaming all over his body. David squirms under the silent scrutiny; it’s a uniquely vulnerable position, with his legs spread and in the air and his arms raised up above his chest, and if this were anyone else he’d feel horribly exposed. With Patrick, he just feels… seen.

“Say something,” he begs quietly, and Patrick’s eyes fly up to meet his.

“David,” Patrick whispers. “You’re so—” he breaks off, pressing a kiss to David’s ankle, just below the cuff. “I can’t believe I get this,” he mumbles into the skin there before pulling away and adding more clearly, “David, you’re perfect.”

A warmth spreads through David all the way through to his core. He can’t think of a single thing to say in the face of Patrick’s sincerity so he doesn’t say anything, letting his eyes fall closed and his head tilt back, enjoying Patrick’s attention. He feels fingers trail lightly down the back of his calf, and then they fall away. After a moment they’re replaced with an entirely different sensation and when he opens his eyes Patrick has picked up the crop, dragging it lightly up his leg towards his foot.

“Please,” he groans, and Patrick smirks.

“Please what?” He moves the crop to David’s other leg and starts the same soft stroking up again, sending shivers down David’s spine.

David grits his teeth. “Please crop me,” he forces out.

“Of course, David,” Patrick says, his voice light and teasing. “And that’s all you want?”

The crop is dragging along his thighs now, making it hard to think. “I— what?”

“You just want me to crop you for a bit, and then go to sleep?”

“No, I— fuck, Patrick,” he hisses as the crop drags under his balls. “I want— I want—”

“Tell me what you want, David.”

David gasps at the sudden change in tone, and it’s enough to force the words past his lips. “I want you to— to crop me and then fuck me.”

Patrick’s mouth twitches in a strange way; it looks like maybe he’s biting the inside of his lip where David can’t see. “I think we can manage that,” is what he says, voice steady. “No need to count for me this time, honey, we’ll just go until we’re done. What’s your colour?”

“Green,” David chokes out. “Green, plea— fuck!” The first blow of the crop strikes him on the back of one thigh, the hit rippling through him. It’s not as hard or as all-encompassing as the flogger but it’s a whole different type of pain, one he also loves; a biting, focused sting he feels down to his bones. He wants to watch Patrick but the position he’s in makes it hard without straining his neck so he sinks his head back into the bed, tugging his wrists a little closer to ease the pressure on his thighs a little — and if the movement also happens to expose a bit more of his ass to Patrick and the crop, well, no one will have any complaints. 

Patrick told him he didn’t have to count but it’s a habit to keep track, and they’re at a dozen when Patrick pauses. “Colour?” he asks, voice lightly curious, and David sucks in a deep breath.

“Forest _fucking_ green, don’t stop,” he demands, and Patrick laughs.

“Good boy,” he says before bringing the crop down right on top of one of the bite marks on David’s thigh. A white-hot jolt of pleasure rushes through him and his whole upper body lifts off the bed as he wails before slumping back down.

“Do that again,” he begs but infuriatingly Patrick doesn’t, bringing the crop back around to his outer thigh and striking there instead. And then the steady stream of blows all over both legs starts again, not quite enough of a pattern for David to be able to anticipate where the next one will land, and he loses himself in the hazy pleasure of it all. Another twelve, another check in to which David basically shrieks “green”, and then five, six, seven before the crop lands on a different hickey to before, this time twice in quick succession, and David _screams._ His cock jerks hard against his stomach where it’s left a mess of precome and he’s panting like he just ran a marathon; his eyes are squeezed shut, and so the first hint he has that Patrick has slid to the floor is when he feels a broad stripe being licked across his asshole that makes him gasp.

“Colour?” Patrick asks mildly, breath hot against him, and David shudders.

“Green,” he says. He strongly suspects it might the only word left in his vocabulary, but luckily it’s the only one he needs. “Green, green, green green greengreengreen—” 

Patrick finally takes pity on him, or gets sick of him chanting a colour, but either way his tongue is back while his fingers stroke feather-light up and down David’s thighs. Patrick’s done this exactly once, in the shower at Ray’s, and that was good but apparently he’s been researching because Patrick is now a goddamn expert, a rimming savant, an aficionado of ass eating — he’s alternating between long slow licks and short soft ones, between tracing around the rim and licking across his hole, over and over until David’s head is spinning. He’s only vaguely aware of the incoherent noises that are being ripped from him by Patrick’s tongue, oh God his _tongue,_ David is going to write poems about this tongue, he’s going to commission a sculpture of it and put it in the Met. And then Patrick is pressing that incredible, talented tongue _inside_ his hole, pulsing in and out, and one of his hands creeps around to the inside of David’s thigh and _presses_ into a hickey there and David has never, not once in all his sordid history, managed to come without his dick being touched but he thinks maybe he could, if Patrick keeps doing that, if he can just keep spiralling up and up and up and—

Patrick’s mouth disappears and David sobs, actually _sobs._ “Fuck,” he roars at the ceiling, and Patrick presses a conciliatory kiss onto his calf.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, continuing to press kisses all over David’s leg even as he twists his body away, reaching for something. “But I couldn’t— David, if I don’t fuck you _right now_ it’s going to be too late— how the fuck are you so _fucking_ hot, Jesus— you’re perfect, you’re perfect, you’re so good, I’m sorry—” And then he’s back, shoulders pressing into the backs of David’s thighs as he slides one lubed finger smoothly inside him.

“More,” David begs. There are times for long, slow preparation and there are times for quick and a bit rough, and this is definitely the latter. “Patrick, Patrick, give me more, please—”

“Yeah, fuck David, you’re so good, fuck, look at you,” Patrick pants as he adds a second finger, picking up the pace, but it’s not enough.

“More, more, come on—”

Patrick groans, pressing his forehead into David’s leg; David can feel the sweat there. “I should—” 

And God, Patrick’s so fucking _nice_ and that’s _great_ but not right _now,_ goddammit. “I can take it, Patrick, Patrick, I promise I can take it, I can— _thank you,”_ he chokes out because now there are three fingers inside him, twisting and crooking and _fuck._

“Fuck me,” he chants. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Patrick chokes out. “Let me just— I need to—” he stands up, wincing a little, and David realises he has absolutely no sense of how much time has passed, how long Patrick’s been on his knees on the floor. He doesn’t say anything as Patrick stretches his legs for a second before looking down at the bed. David’s close enough to the end of it that there’s no room for him.

“I can—” David starts, but then Patrick comes around the sides and puts his hands under David’s armpits, and before he can object he’s being bodily _hauled_ a foot up the bed. Once David is apparently where he wants him, Patrick climbs onto the end of the bed on his knees and rolls on a condom before smearing more than enough lube over himself. David knows he’s doing it because he’s worried about David being comfortable and the realisation makes him catch his breath; he’s not used to people taking care of him, especially in moments like this. Instead of saying anything he tucks his knees in closer to his chest, trying to give Patrick a better angle.

Patrick slides both hands under David’s hips to hoist him up slightly and oh, God, apparently being manhandled is what does it for him now. And then Patrick is sliding inside him in one long, smooth stroke and its’s almost too much, he’s almost not prepped enough but it’s just this side of okay, wrapped tight around Patrick’s cock while he adjusts to the weird angle.

“Fuck,” Patrick gasps. “David, I’m not gonna—”

“I know, I know, just touch me, fuck me.” And he’s got no idea how Patrick manages it but he does, one hand gripping tight on David’s hip as leverage to thrust into him while the other reaches around his bent leg to his cock. There’s no rhythm to the way Patrick’s touching him but David’s been on a knife’s edge for what feels like hours so all it takes is a little bit of pressure, a stroke or two, and then David’s coming with a long yell pulled from somewhere deep inside him, his back arching as his come bursts all over his stomach, his chest, even a bit on his chin.

“David,” Patrick cries out. “David, God, fuck—” and with one final snap of his hips he stills, shuddering for what seems to David like a really long time. For a few moments, the only sound in the room is their rasping breaths and then Patrick’s pulling out, slipping off the condom and tying it up before immediately bringing his attention to David’s restraints. He undoes the wrists first, and David shakes out his arms while his ankles are released. He lets his legs fall heavily onto the bed on either side of Patrick, wincing as the muscles settle. Patrick hovers over him and before David can register the smirk on his face he’s leaning down and he’s, _holy fuck,_ licking David’s come off his body. And there is no way, absolutely no way on earth that David could _possibly_ get hard right now, he can barely _move_ right now, but the sight of it sends sparks shooting through his belly.

Patrick kisses him on the shoulder and then gets up, rummaging around in his backpack before he returns with some soothing cream.

“You don’t need to,” David mumbles, and his eyelids are drooping but he catches Patrick’s eyeroll.

“If that didn’t work at the club, you think it’s gonna work here?” he asks, and David has to concede the point. He lets Patrick rub the cream into his thighs, somehow summoning the energy to roll obediently when Patrick guides him into his stomach so he can get the back. 

Once he’s done Patrick kisses him deeply, hand curled around his neck. David’s just finding the motivation to respond when Patrick disappears and he grumbles, but before he can say anything Patrick is back with a warm washcloth, gently wiping David down. Once he’s satisfied, Patrick does some wizardry with the sheets in order to get David underneath them without actually making him stand up, which David is deeply grateful for. 

Patrick slips into the bed as well, pressing up behind him, peppering his back with kisses. “Thank you, David,” he whispers into David’s shoulder.

The words filter through David’s brain much slower than he’d like. “For what?”

Another soft kiss, this time in the centre of his back. “For letting me see you like that. For trusting me to give you what you need.”

David tries to reply, but he’s already asleep. 

* * *

David is not and will never be a morning person, but as far as mornings go, being bribed into getting up with a long, luxurious blowjob is not a completely terrible start. After they shower (together, to… conserve water, although it winds up running cold just after Patrick comes with David’s mouth around his dick and two fingers pressed inside him) they strip the bed and throw the sheets in the washer before leaving. David needs to stop by the motel before work so Patrick drops him off, a quick kiss goodbye turning into a ten-minute makeout session with Patrick’s fingers tangled in David’s hair and the windscreen at serious risk of fogging up right there in the parking lot.

When Stevie comes in at lunchtime, she picks up three bottles of wine and heads for the door without a word.

“Excuse me, can I ring those up for you?” David demands. He probably _won’t_ — she did do them a huge favour — but arguing about it is part of the process.

“Uh, no,” Stevie replies. “I figured I’d take one for each of the noise complaints I found stuffed in my mailbox this morning, actually.”

Once she leaves Patrick groans, letting his head drop back against the wall.

“She is never going to let us live this down, is she?”

“Nope,” David says cheerfully. “Worth it, though.”

* * *

  
_Digital art by the amazing[SparklesMagicLightLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklesMagicLightLove/pseuds/SparklesMagicLightLove)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Once again, a huge shoutout to [SparklesMagicLightLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklesMagicLightLove/pseuds/SparklesMagicLightLove) for the amazing art 😍😍
> 
> Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


End file.
